


The Big Stitch-Up

by Superbeans



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Embroidery, Gen, Sewing, semi-canonical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12491164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superbeans/pseuds/Superbeans
Summary: Kanji Tatsumi still runs his mother’s fabric store in Inaba, practicing and improving his skills with every new gig.His dresses are especially popular.





	The Big Stitch-Up

A bare lightbulb flickered to life as a shock of bleach blonde hair stomped through the doorway. A new morning, with fresh opportunities.

Welp, there was no point waiting for something to happen. Stretching lithe arm muscles, the young man squat down upon an uncomfortable looking little stall behind the counter. There was a good couple of hours before the town woke up, so might as well get the day rolling. Taut knuckles rolled and clicked as the young man flexed his hands, and with gentle precision, plucked a sewing needle from the mass of fantic it had been stabbed into the night before. 

His calloused fingers enticed a thread through the eye of the needle, tying a knot so he didn’t lose it again. With a quick glance over his plans on the desk next to him, he nodded a couple of times to himself, and wasted no more time in stabbing the needle through more lengths of fabric. A glistening silver satin this time, the young man worked with deceptive speed and accuracy, replacing the work pins had done the night before with tidy embroidery.

In tranquil silence he worked fervently, a smile touching at his lips as his needle continued to puncture the delicate fabric. One, two, three pins were plucked out of the creation as it was slowly woven together, and dropped into a cup on the desk. They’d be needed again.

There was a flash of teeth as he knocked off the finishing touches on the hem. One step closer to completion, and it was gonna be an absolute masterpiece. He simply knew that chick who rocked this - or dude, if they wanted - they were gonna steal the whole damn show.

But he couldn’t congratulate himself yet. The young man’s fierce grey eyes hardened with concentration as he folded the delicate weaves around the neckline. Whatever this wavy shit was, it looked awesome, and deserved to be there.

The sun was emerging from behind distant mountains, greeting a young man who apparently hadn’t moved since it had gone to sleep last night. Now he was working with silk, folding it on the desktop into tiny flower shapes. Twenty or so in total, they were going to be dotted across the skirt, because flowers were cute dammit. Silk flowers were symbolic of purity or some shit, and if any woman wanted to look pure while wearing something - or a dude, if he wants - then this was the thing to wear. And Hasegawa-san couldn’t hold a candle to him anyway. Not once this beauty hit the mannequin.

Sunlight and cars began to flood the streets. It was probably time to actually open the store, so people could buy his stuff. With a short sigh, the young man put down his fifteenth silk flower, cracked his neck, straightened out his skull tee, and plodded across the wooden floor on unsteady feet to flip the sign around and unlock the door. Hopefully it was gonna be a quiet day today, or at least give him enough time to finish this dress.

Customers wandered in like a dripping tap as the morning wore on. Some just made small talk or window shopped, while others actually bought things. Amagi-san was a real babe and brought him some freshly made Taiyaki, to say thanks for the ‘little snowman’ doll that her daughter absolutely loved. Meanwhile, those flowers were coming together, threaded carefully onto the skirt.

With a few checks and double checks, the removal of a couple loose threads, and a long draught of coffee, the young man gave his official nod of approval. Carefully, he dragged a mannequin over, and began fitting the thing to it. If this dress could flatter a damn mannequin, then he could only dream about how good a person would look wearing it. After all, that was kinda the point in these things.

He positioned the mannequin, complete with its flashy new wedding dress, in the store window. It shimmered in the morning sunlight, bathing the room in its soft, satin...y glow.

”Job well done,” he dusted off his hands. He cracked his neck again, flexed both hands, and inhaled a taiyaki. It probably wasn’t the best breakfast choice he could’ve made, but dammit, it was right there.

Heads were already turning before he could even sit back down and start on the veil. The young man secretly grinned behind all the delicate netting he was concentrating on.

More customers fluttered past periodically, but the dress got its first hit before long, as this five foot nothing green-haired woman started making goo goo eyes at it. She shook the guy she was with, a pale-eyed, blue haired scarecrow of a man. About five foot six and almost as pitiful as the woman with him, the professional smile was nevertheless plastered on the moment his doorbell tinkled.

 

”Umm, w-welcome!” The blonde man knocked his stool over as he got up from it to bow. “Tatsumi Kanji, h-how can I help ya?”

The tiny green haired woman - his mind said woman, but realistically she could’ve been about twelve - seemed lost somewhere between insecurity and excitement, practically radiating waves of awkwardness. She babbled on about how she and the guy with her - Arisato-san apparently - were due to wed in the spring, and she wanted a western wedding with a dress and not a kimono because it seemed like a cute idea... or something.

If he were completely honest, Kanji would’ve admitted to not remembering half of what this woman had stammered out. He got the punchline though; she wanted to try the dress on.

Her guy Arisato clearly wasn’t much of a talker, just standing there and smiling meekly as she did the leg work. But hey, Kanji wasn’t one to judge. He almost fell in love with a dude once.

The green-haired disappeared into the changing rooms with the dress, and Kanji had to admit that the thought made his stomach twist a little. He’d only put it together a couple hours ago. What if she ripped it or something?

But for all his nerves, they went thankfully unfounded as she emerged a few minutes later, admittedly drowned in it. The skirt was about six miles too long for her, and he was going to have to make some severe adjustments around the uhh, bust, but something told him it was going to be worth it.

”W-w-what do you think, Mina-san?” She’d blushed the shade past crimson. But her eyes were sparkling more than even the dress, and Arisato looked pretty freakin’ pleased with it too. Well, as much as you could get out of a mute, anyway. With a smirk and a nod of the head, he gave his girl a thumbs up.

”D-d’you really think so?!” So beamed at him. “Umm, Tatsumi-san...?”

”You look adorable, Y-Yamagishi-san, was it?” Kanji smiled toothily. “I’m almost done with the veil, and I’ll just need to make a couple adjustments for the fit. I-if that’s not a problem? Oh, and this?”

He knocked over a couple more things on his desk in his search, but retrieved a little fabric patch from a small pile, and produced two frowns in reaction to it.

”W-what is...?” Yamagishi narrowed her eyes at it. 

“My signature,” Kanji grinned, showing both of them the flaming skull patch in more detail. “That way people know they’re gettin’ authentic skullbaby merch.”

Yamagishi’s confusion dissolved into the cutest little smile. “W-we’ll then, I can’t refuse that. After all,” she twirled for effect, “th-this is the best one we’ve seen, and we’ve been all the way to Sapporo!”

”Sapporo?!” Kanji actually took a step back. Wow. This guy must’ve been loaded. “W-well then, I’m glad I could satisfy! Let’s talk costs, huh?!”

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Videogameplayer7664 for inspiring this fic. Feel free to visit their prompt fic... thing and get inspired yourself.


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